


Thanking Your Lord

by astrothsknot



Series: By My Lady's Command [5]
Category: By My Lady's Command, Original Work
Genre: Blow Jobs, Coming all over yourself, Harem, M/M, Male Concubines, Mildly Dubious Consent, Original Character(s), Power Dynamics, Sex Slavery, Space Fantasy Setting, Wine doon yer willy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-29
Updated: 2017-12-29
Packaged: 2019-02-23 18:01:11
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,072
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13195566
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/astrothsknot/pseuds/astrothsknot
Summary: Peter wishes to retire and nominates a successor.





	Thanking Your Lord

Peter sat back in his chair as his weekly meeting on the running of the House came to an end. Lady Araya nodded as she worked through the figures he had presented her with. “As ever, Peter, you excel.”

  
“I earn my keep, My Lady,” he said, straight faced and Lady Araya laughed. Peter poured more wine from the chilled decanter and grew serious. Lady Araya recognised that he wished to say something more.

  
“Any other business, Peter?” she asked.

  
“Two Last Night requests,“ he replied. “Piers wishes to buy himself out. He has requested that his Last Night not be sent to auction.”

  
“He’s never recovered fully from the Princess, has he?” Araya mused. Peter shook his head, as Araya called up a file on the screen. Piers’ account was healthy, even if he bought himself out. Araya nodded to herself, weighing up the information.

  
“You never did use him much for your own pleasure, My Lady,” said Peter. “Yet he was very much your taste.”

  
“You kept him busy enough, Peter,” she replied. “No,” she said resolutely, “Piers’ Last Night rights shall not be auctioned, nor shall he buy himself out. He’s served this House well and shall part with my blessing. Make the arrangements, Peter. We’ll at least keep him safe from the Princess for his last time.”

  
“As you wish, My Lady.” Peter paused for a moment. “The second one, My Lady.”

  
“Ah, yes. Well, who is it?” she asked, raising her goblet to her lips.

  
“Me, My Lady. It’s time I train my replacement in readiness for when I go.”

  
“I can’t imagine you not being here,” she said, and she sounded like a little girl. Sometimes Peter grieved for the happy little girl who had been lost in the creation of this deadly woman.

  
“The time comes for all of us, My Lady,” he said, softly, “and I’d rather make the transition smooth. They are such…delicate times.”

  
Araya recalled the chaos after her Grandmother had passed and nodded. “Well, you have the right to choose your successor. I’m curious who you’d think can fill your boots.”

  
“Lorcan.” He sipped his wine.

  
Araya choked on hers. “Lorcan?”

  
“Could you think of anyone better?” He asked. “He’s intelligent, ruthless and knows this harem inside out. Giving him an official position within the harem will bind that talent to this House.”

  
“He’s the complete opposite of you,” she observed. “And he does have status within this House. He has sired one of my children and I give that position its due respect.”

  
“You don’t, My Lady. You have never officially acknowledged him in that regard. Siring a child is not the same as fathering a child.” The wine was loosening Peter’s tongue, perhaps too far, but it needed to be said. “He’s Blood Marked, yes, but he has the same status as any other Blood Mark. There is nothing to officially set him apart from the other men. A man who has served with nothing to show for it is dangerous.”

  
“Watch your words, Peter. You’re not a Pilos yet.” Her tone was soft, but her words were not.

  
“My Lady, you know my words for truth. Lies have no benefit for us.” Peter dropped his eyes and studied her velvet gown. He did not mention that the choice of his successor was not hers, but his alone.

  
“You have made your case, Peter. Lorcan is our new Second Concubine. I trust you can see to the arrangements.” A primal light shone in her eyes as she threw a cushion down on the floor.

  
“Myself to service you, My Lady, or another?” Peter asked.

  
“Our new Second Concubine can do the honours to celebrate, Peter,” she replied. “Summon him.”

  
Peter took a small tablet from the chatelaine on his waist and keyed in some numbers. It pinged to show receipt and Lady Araya smiled. Before long, a knock sounded at the door.

  
“Enter,” she called, and the door opened to reveal Lorcan. His face was expressionless as he saw Peter there. “You can do the honours, Peter.”

  
“Kneel in the presence of your Mistress, son,” ordered Peter, indicating the cushion. Lorcan slipped to his knees in a smooth movement, back straight and proud. He did not incline his head, as he should have, instead meeting Araya’s gaze as if he were her equal.

  
Peter looked across to His Lady. There was a small kink of amusement playing upon her lips as she saw Lorcan’s tiny insolence. She leaned forward, brushing her fingers over his face. Lorcan turned and caught them, biting them lightly. He played his tongue over the pads, catching the rough of his tongue over the whorls of her prints and over the smooth of her nails.

  
She allowed herself this small pleasure for a few minutes, before pulling out her fingers. They made a gentle kissing sound as they left his lips. “Peter wishes to retire and has chosen you as his replacement, as a tribute to your talents and services to myself, this House and those within it.”

  
Lorcan did lose a little of his composure, then, glancing quickly at Peter, who nodded, with a warm smile. “Thank you, My Lady. Long may I serve this House.”

  
“And you shall,” Araya replied. “But first, pay tribute to your nominator and predecessor.”

  
“My Lady,” both men replied in unison.

  
Peter moved his chair around so that Araya might see Lorcan’s gratitude. Lorcan made sure he could catch His Lady’s eye as he set about his task. Kneeling before Peter, he set his hands upon his silk-clad thighs, letting the heat build through the thin material.

  
Peter shifted slightly under Lorcan’s touch. Peter’s personal tastes ran to women, so other than assessing a whore’s technique or training or to match him to a Patron, he rarely took advantage of his Headman’s Rights. It made him slightly uncomfortable to have another man’s mouth on his body, even as a reward. Even more so under the gaze of His Lady, whom he could not refuse.

  
Ever so slowly, Lorcan’s hands began to slide along Peter’s thighs. The rustle of the silk was loud in the quiet room and sent a chill down the older man’s spine, tingling in his head. Lorcan slipped his hands to and fro, leaving a warmth as he passed. He did not hurry, as he knew from experience, such favours from Their Lady were to be savoured, never rushed. Though he had never looked away from Peter’s face, he saw from the corner of his eye that she had set a full wine glass on the table beside Peter, refilling his. Frost wove its way up the inside of the glass, ensuring the wine kept a pleasant coldness when sipped.

  
Lorcan began to trace lazy patterns with his fingertips, testing where Peter was more sensitive. An infinity symbol looping at the join of the thigh and the buttock brought a skilfully concealed tense of the muscle. a whirl traced near the bend of the knee garnered the tiniest hitch of the breath. He began to concentrate on the inside of Peer’s thighs, till now, kept tightly shut, tracing the same lazy patterns as he slowly began to force them apart. The skin here was more sensitive and Peter’s reactions, despite himself, began to deepen.

  
Lorcan did not go near Peter’s balls and cock yet. He had all night and truly wished to make this experience exquisite for his superior, despite his reservations around taking pleasure from others of his sex. While Lorcan shared it, he had long ago shed those objections. After all, look what he had gained from their absence. He moved into the spread of Peter’s legs and reached for Peter’s robe, pulling it open enough to show his muscular torso with its intricate Mark. The scales of the dragon shimmered in the low light and Lorcan knew if he was to touch it, he would feel ridges and lines under his fingers.

  
Peter did not shrug off the garment. Protocol dictated that the recipient of a favour from a slave did not disrobe lest it be seen as a loss of status. He shivered as his skin was exposed to the air and anticipation rose within him. Despite the circumstances, he could feel the first stirrings of desire in his shaft.

  
Lorcan for his part did not raise himself up to kiss Peter’s lips, nor touch his face. That too, was not permitted and Lorcan understood all too well the dynamics of this encounter. Still, he had an affection and a respect for the man who had finally given him an official position where their Mistress had not. The slight had not gone unnoticed within the Empire.

  
There was also his own pride in his work. He had a reputation to uphold.

  
Lorcan leaned toward Peter, who for a brief, thrilling moment thought that Lorcan was going to breach convention and kiss him. Even as his eyes said no, his lips parted in yes. He was almost disappointed that the younger man brought his lips to the Mark on Peter’s chest and kissed it reverently.

  
Lorcan moved his lips across Peter’s chest, kissing the sensitive ridges and dips of his pecs until he reached the rich, quilted fabric of his robe. He did not move aside the fabric, but kissed slowly and softly from one side to the other, in a seemingly haphazard pattern over Peter’s stomach. Through the heat spreading out from the butterfly caresses and the hitching of his breath, Peter recognised that Lorcan was forming letters, but he couldn’t make them out.

  
Peter was still only half hard, despite that his skin was responding to another man’s touch. Lorcan knew from experience that Peter would have to be stimulated more directly. It was part of his own strict moral training, as well as his personal proclivities that made his response so conservative and measured. He always endeavoured to judge a concubine on their talents and not his response. It kept his discernments unbiased and no advantage or coercion entered therein.

  
Lorcan ran his fingers along where he had kissed and sat back on his heels.

  
“Sir,” he spoke, and his voice was low and husky. “If it pleases you, as it pleases Our Lady, may I worship you with my mouth?”

  
Peter tried, but found he could not speak. He nodded, as despite his training, he knew that he would respond to this talented, ambitious man. He gripped the arms of the chair. “Proceed,” he whispered, hoarse and broken.

  
Lorcan gave a small nod, then ran his fingers to Peter’s waistband. He unclipped the chatelaine from his waist and set it on the table with a clink. He kissed where it had been, then untied the top lacing of Peter’s trousers with a slowness and a delicacy that promised pleasures to come.

  
As Lorcan gradually worked the lacing open, more of Peter’s treasure trail appeared. Lorcan moved slowly, catching Peter’s skin, making the man jump and twitch. Finally, Lorcan stopped and sat back again. “and there he is, ready to be freed from his cage.”

  
Peter’s semi-rigid member was straining against the lacing, the silken string pressing a pattern into its topside, the confinement building up the anticipation. Lorcan pulled the shaft gently free in a way that he could not have done if Peter was fully hard. He took a sip of the wine beside him and swallowed. It was loud in the quiet room.

  
Lorcan turned back to Peter and gave him a dark smile that Araya couldn’t see from where she was sitting. Still keeping Peter’s gaze, Lorcan finally took Peter in his mouth. Peter gasped at the warmth enveloping the sensitive tip and finally let go his responses. He closed his eyes, so the feelings could intensify. Sensations of arousal flooded to his dick as it began to stiffen with blood, turning the skin darker. A sheen of sweat began to glisten over his torso.

  
Lorcan took the head of Peter’s phallus out of his mouth and began to lick his tongue up and around in time with his fingers. Peter’s body had gone rigid and he moaned with each new move of the concubine’s tongue. Veins began to stand out against the skin as the worshipped cock swelled to its full thickness. Lorcan began to use his tongue and lips on the shaft and the pulsing vein and the line underneath that led to Peter’s encaged balls.

  
He nipped and scraped along Peter’s good length, soothing a particular rough bite with his tongue as Peter gave a wordless shout, using all of his self-control to keep in the chair. He gripped the arms with white knuckles, murmuring quiet cursing under his breath. He could not be seen to beg or plead, not like this.

  
It took a moment for him to register that Lorcan’s mouth was no longer on him and he wondered for a moment what he must look like – gasping and sweating, member rigid with desire and rearing out of his lacing. He did not want to look at his Lady. He wanted this to be Lorcan’s triumph, not hers.

  
He saw Lorcan take a sip of wine and carefully put his lips over the seated man’s cock-head. The wine was cold against his sensitive tip and Peter startled. Keeping his mouth tight shut, Lorcan sucked and swirled the never warming liquid around the glans. The two extremes of sensation and temperature were such sweet torture! The hot suck of the tongue and cold swirl of the wine was almost causing Peter to lose control in the sensations rippling over his body, his skin, his muscles and surely the singing of his nerves could be heard in the room.

  
Lorcan finally moved to tongue Peter’s slit and it was all he could do to stop his legs shaking. His hips convulsed and drove his prick deep into Lorcan’s throat, breaking the perfect circle of his lips. Cold, cold wine ran down the shaft and down past the lacing into his balls and trickling round to his arsehole and the sensation pulled more shudders and moans from the writhing Head Concubine. The chill stayed long after the liquid had passed, and Peter’s chest heaved with the cold feeling on his hot body.

  
He reached out and felt for his wine, praying he didn’t knock it over. Lorcan placed it into his shaking hand and guided the glass to his lips. Peter’s mouth was dry from his gasps and sighs, so he drunk the wine greedily. He held out his glass for more and Lorcan poured for him. “Why do you stop?”

  
“If it were your own choice and not a command, would you continue?” Lorcan asked, voice cracking through swollen lips. “would you?”

  
Peter’s glass rattled off his teeth as his hands shook at what Lorcan was asking and his own shocked desire as the answer came before he had even thought it. “Yes, by the Furies, yes.”

  
Lorcan gave his dark smile and took a mouthful of wine, before retaking Peter’s cock back into his mouth. It earned a strangled cry from him as again Lorcan tongued the slit, driving his tongue into the top as if to deepen it. Peter held himself as still as he could, lest he buck the blond man from his dick again. In the back of his mind, he knew Lorcan was not finished. The man was renown for his …creativity.

  
He did not have to wait long.

  
Peter felt a cold chill begin to invade the deepest part of his cock, that slender channel that ran within. The wine ran down deep inside as Lorcan forced his mouthful into the unblinking eye. “Empty Night, Lorcan,” he breathed. “What are you…where did you…”

  
Lorcan just grinned as he picked up his wine, swigged a mouthful and placed his lips back around Peter’s shivering cock. He teased it with his tongue a long moment, careful not to suck any of the precious fluid from within.

  
Peter dimly thought the frost that was spreading down to his balls should have caused his hardness to fade, yet he stood prouder than ever as Lorcan forced more of the ice-cold wine deep inside. Peter’s body was so sensitive, it was as if the younger man’s tongue was over his skin, as it swirled around his delicate glans. His breathing matched the timing of the pressured entry to inside his dick. Peter felt so full, so penetrated in that most secret part of his body and yet Lorcan forced more in. The cold and heat fought for control of his body and he began to shake so hard with it that he felt he was coming apart at the seams.

  
A low coil in his back began to tighten and he knew he was close as Lorcan had filled him completely.

  
The younger man pulled back to admire his handiwork and stretched out the moment as long as he could. Lorcan began to pump his hand quickly along Peter’s length, careful of its load. Hard and firm he gripped, until the Peter’s hips bucked and he shot streams of clear liquid from his convulsing shaft. It hit his chest and ran over it, catching the light. He moaned as it shot from him, gasping for air. His heart pounded in his chest, as if he’d been running for his life.

  
Peter fell back on the chair, boneless and exhausted. His heart flew, even as his limbs were leaden.

  
“Does the tribute show my gratitude?” asked Lorcan. For once there was no trace of insolence or mockery in his voice.

  
Peter could barely nod. He could not speak.

  
“Peter has made an excellent choice in nominating you as his successor, Lorcan.” Both men startled a little as Lady Araya spoke. They had been so engrossed in each other, they had forgotten she was there. She held out her hand to Lorcan, who rose stiffly to his feet. “We shall continue this in my chambers and leave Peter to his rest. I have never seen such a reaction from him, and I have seen him serviced many times.”

  
She swept out of Peter’s chambers. Lorcan followed more slowly, hobbling to the door with that dark smile on his face again. He caught Peter’s eye as he closed the door and winked.


End file.
